Lost and Found: Lost
by Writerofdarkness6
Summary: She was lost, she was broken, they were in love. This is the story of how the three most unlikely people in Hogwarts came to live together, love together, and die together. DMBZGW 1 of 3 in the Lost and Found Trilogy.
1. Forward

Author's Note:

I try not to have too many of these within the story, but I wanted to share how this story came to me and give you a bit of insight into the story. I associate events in my own life with those in the stories I write. Therefore the stories I write are deeply personal – though not necessarily autobiographical. This story is very dark, it is part a study in depression and part a journal of my own struggles with it. There may be lines throughout the story which I borrow from anonymous sources.

This story will be divided into three sections, as it is a trilogy. All three sections are meticulously planned out, though only patches of the story are written. I find it hard to write sequentially. This is also why there is such a time difference between when I first started this story and now. I never gave up on it, I just kept jumping around to the parts that inspired me. Now I have gotten to the point where I have to grin and bear the 'transitons' from the exciting parts.

I am among the breed that knows more about the fanfiction canons than the actual ones. I guarantee there will be mistakes in accuracy. However the great thing about FanFiction is that you have complete artistic reign of your work. This will not be compatible at all with the seventh book, or the sixth. In fact there will not be Horcruxes at all. I started this story a long, long time ago. Now I intend to finish it. If you have any questions or concerns, feel free to contact me through the website, or through my e-mail.

Thank you for your wonderful support throughout the years,

Elvra


	2. Chapter 1

Dear Diary,

I don't know when, I don't know why. But I do know that by the end of my life I will kill myself. It's not lie, it's not a want, and it's a fact. A fact I will never be rid of. The end.

I have wanted to kill myself for almost four days. Ever since… It's too painful to talk about. Even to something inanimate. It seems that if I were to write it down, it would actually become real. And that thought scares me. I keep thinking that perhaps I can wake up, and this will all be a dream, but if it's documented somewhere then it becomes reality. The bruises have started to fade, it no longer hurts to sleep, or breathe. I suppose that is an improvement. I have a feeling, that tonight I will actually kill myself. I can't take this; I can't take being used any longer. I won't give in to submission. I would rather die on the outside, then be killed on the inside whist I keep breathing. Although the process of my soul's murder has already begun. The more I think about it, the more I realize that I just don't care anymore.

I don't care about anything. Forget this. Forget everything. There's nothing worth going to sleep every night and waking up to nothing in the morning. Why am I fighting a battle I won't ever win? I tried so hard for him. I was just trying to help. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I've never in my life felt this way before, never felt so lost, so helpless, so useless. I guess I have you to thank for that. This is horrible. I was doing so well. On top of everything else that was going on. I was almost happy. I HATE you for this. I was SOOO close. How could you take that away from me? Am I not worth nothing anymore? It hurts that you think that.

I know I'm just getting myself worked up over nothing. I have to take a breath and count to ten every time that I think of him, of what he did to me… I cry every time I think of it.

I'm leaving now, and I won't be coming back. If anyone should ever find this, know that I am not weak, however it may seem. I guess this is a sort of suicide letter, since this is a letter, and I am about to kill myself. I have just decided. There is no reason to wait, wait for the next bruise, for the next disgraceful comment, it ends tonight.

With all my love to whoever will listen,

Ginevra.

11/18/1996

That's how it ended. On a cold day in November, Ginevra Weasley decided to kill herself. But how it began is the story, how the world chastised her so much that she came to this fatal decision. The beginning starts like this:

The sound of a delicate song filled the nearly empty house of the Burrow. Empty except for one, Miss Ginevera Weasley who was playing a sad and frail tune from her childhood on the piano. It was a beautiful piece, filled with emotion. The same emotion that was dripping out of Gineevra's eyes. She loved her brothers more than you could possibly imagine, but what he had said had stung.

'_You're so annoying, Ginny. Just because Harry brought you out of the stupid Chamber that you got yourself into doesn't mean he's in love with you. For God's sake, get over it!'_

It may not seem harsh to you, but to the twelve year old girl playing the piano, it was brutal. She wanted to cry, but she knew that in a few hours she would be going back to Hogwarts for her second year, and she had to look presentable. Her face had this annoying habit of staying red and blotched for hours after she had cried only a little. It was misfortunate for her, as she could never hide her emotions from anyone. What had happened to Ron? After his first year, he no longer wanted to be any where near her. They didn't play those games anymore. Yes, they were both older, but just because you're over the age of ten doesn't mean that you stop talking to your siblings. At least, it didn't to Ginny.

She cursed herself as a single tear fell from her eye, sliding gracefully down her cheek. She quickly stood from the piano, taking her trunk from the storage closet and hauling it upstairs to begin packing. From that day on, she stated that she would never cry over any of her brothers again, especially not Ron.

Four years later, she realized that she had lied. Again, she was preparing for Hogwarts, her sixth year, and again, Ron had made an ass of himself. Why the fuck didn't Ron want her to sit with them on the train? She always sat with them. Hermione was as good a friend of hers as she was his, but no. He insisted that his juvenile sister would screw everything up so in turn; he banished her from his life. You may be thinking that the previous statement was rather harsh for such a belittle request, but it was just the cherry on top. The last three years, he had continually pushed her out of his life, out of his space, and out of his memory.

"God damn you Ron…" she whispered in a silent fury. Tears where clouding her eyesight as she packed for the upcoming year at Hogwarts. She violently threw her sweaters into her trunk, hardly having the strength to stand any longer. Her white-hot fury was overwhelming her senses until all she could think about was him. What was so revolting about her that made him stop loving her as a sister? She had never stopped loving him, yet… She shook her head, trying to clear it of all the thoughts that were clouding her sensibilities. She worked in peace for the next five minutes, sorting through her summer clothes and pictures until she saw that one detrimental photo. The picture of when they were 11 and 10, the month before Ron was going to school. They had just dyed Percy's hair blue with the ever so cautious help of Fred and George. She laughed at the memory before it turned into an anguished sob.

"I promised myself I wouldn't cry over you." She tried to say, but all that came out were more and more cries of sorrow. She didn't even realize when she sunk down to her knees; all she could see was his face. His laughing, smiling, caring face. "Why?" she chanted over and over again.

She heard the door open. Caught, she looked up; tear stricken and shocked as Fred stood at her doorway.

"Ginny, what's wrong?" he asked before stepping to her and eloping her in an embrace. She tried to straighten herself up, but he would have none of it and looked at her with concerned eyes. "Tell me, Gin."

"I'm being stupid really; it's nothing to worry about." She wiped the tears from her cheeks.

"It's not nothing, Gin. You haven't cried over anything in over five years, so don't tell me not to worry about it. _Tell me_." He persisted, but she didn't relent. He gave her a quick hug. "Fine. I'll be right back." She nodded at him before he walked across the hall into his room and brought out his twin with him.

"George, Ginny's crying and she won't tell me why. So I need reinforcements." Fred announced, knowing no one else was in the house. They both looked to their precious baby sister sitting on the floor before filing into her room, one right after the other.

"Please, Fred, George, just go away. I still have to pack and the train leaves in-"

"Four hours. Which give you ample enough time to tell us why you're crying and because of who." George said firmly. He sat on her right side, leaning up against her bed, while Fred sat on her left. "Come here, Gin." He pulled her into his arms, kissing her on top of her head. At the studious affection, she started to cry softly once more. This, of course, only worried them more. Fred stroked her back reassuringly before George made her lie across him, with her head in his lap. Fred repositioned himself to be closer to her.

"Tell us what's wrong."

Twin stares of unadulterated caring met her eyes. And then she poured out her soul. She told them of everything, how she felt that Ron had abandon her, and that it was hard talking with any of her other brothers because of the age difference. She told them how Ron had been so inconsiderate after the Diary incident that truly made her wish that Tom Riddle had taken her life. Then she started with what actually happened down in the Chamber. No one had ever heard this come from her mouth. She told of how she felt that Tom was a truly great friend, and that she had grown to love him until he decided to use her. She felt that everyone she knew was using her for one reason or another. Ginny went on for nearly ten minutes with them staring down at her, stroking her hair and wiping away her tears as she cried. Finally, she looked away from them, knowing they must think her ridiculous.

"I'm sorry." She murmured. One of them grabbed her chin firmly and turned her eyes to face them.

"Listen to us Ginny, don't _ever _say that you're sorry to us again. You don't have to." Fred started before George continued for him.

"We're your brothers, and contrary to what you may think, we love more than anything else in this world. We will _never_ leave you, so don't ever doubt that. And you can always talk to us." He said softly, brushing away a newly fallen tear from the side of her face.

"We're here to listen. No matter what it is, we're here for you." George leaned down to kiss her forehead affectionately, still stroking her hair, as she tried to recover from her crying fit. She supposed she had one advantage of crying now rather then crying when she was younger. Now she grew pale, whereas before her nose would swell up and she would look like a clown. She tried to sit up, but George's arm across her stomach prevented that from happening. "I'm perfectly comfortable and don't feel like moving."

He smiled at her.

"I have to get ready." She tried feebly.

"Bullshit. You have four hours. No one else is even here. You can take five minutes and relax. Forget about that bastard that we call a brother, he's not important. What's important is that you're happy, and if we're convinced that forcing you to sit still for five minutes will make you even the slightest bit happy, then you damn well are doing it." Fred said teasingly. She smiled at him, before doing as she was told and just laying there in a companionable silence.

Her brothers reluctantly got up when the heard the front door being opened. Each placed a light kiss on her cheek, before standing and bringing her with them.

"Are you sure you'll be okay?" They asked. She couldn't tell which one it was.

"Yes, I'm positive." She hesitated. "Thank you."

"No problem." They leaned in to hug her one last time before leaving.

"Fred, Gerge-" she called out. They turned and looked at her. "Please don't tell of this to Ron. Or anyone else." She pleaded. They looked at each other for a long moment in suspended silence before glancing back at her sister.

"This time, we won't talk to him about it." Fred said.

"But if he does this again, we won't stay silent." George finished.

She smiled at them. "Thank you." She turned to get ready for her year at Hogwarts with a lighter air in her step. _I never expected that it would be the twins to make me feel better when it came to Ron… _she thought. But when she really thought about it, really went deep into her mind, they were always the ones that helped her through her hardest times, in their own little ways. This was only the first time they had done it directly. She grinned as she thought of the time her mother was upset with her, and so for four days they hid their mothers wand, and replaced it with hundreds of fake-wands that turned into fish, chickens, flying dragons, miniature cows, lobsters, and even the ones that burst into pixie dust, therefore clouding anything and anyone close with a shimmery pink paste that took days to get off.

Their mother was so flustered with the fake-wands that she completely forgot about being angry with Ginny. Of course, then they proceeded to make Ginny their lab-rat for a week in return payment, but she enjoyed it none the less. They had always been there; she had just never realized it before.

For the rest of the morning, she walked around, making sure she was packed with all of her books and things, eating breakfast, and cleaning her room. Finally, it was a little after ten when her mother called for everyone to get into the car that they had rented for the trip into London.

"Come on, Ginny dear. If we don't hurry now, we'll be in a rush once we get to the train." Her mother told them. So one by one, Ron, Hermione, Harry, Fred, George, and Ginny filed into the car. Amidst much inconvenience, they finally managed to get into a way that the half-hour ride would not mortally wound any of them.

"Is everyone ready?" Their father asked. Murmurs of agreement filled the silence and they set off towards the station. Tense silence fell between all of them, especially between Ginny and Ron. Ginny, wedged in between Fred and George, tried at all costs to avoid looking at her youngest brother. Ron however, was openly glaring at her much to her discomfort and Fred and George's displeasure. They had barely left Ottery St. Catchpole and it was already proving to be an unpleasant ride. Harry and Hermione chatted among each other, blinded by the awkwardness presented to the other occupants in the car. The twins were sending irritated glances at each other with every glare they caught Ron throwing Gin. Tension was rising, and Ginny just wanted it to stop. Trying to ease some of the pressure, Ginny turned to talk to Hermione.

"So how the beginning of your summer? I never actually asked how went."

As Hermione opened her mouth to respond, Ron beat her to it. "Well, if you had been considerate when Hermione had first arrived, you would already know." It came out of his mouth laced with venom, and the shocked, broken look on Ginny's face rivaled that as if she had been shot.

"Ron! I just got in yesterday and she's been nothing but kind to me." Hermione reproached with shock written on her own face as well. Harry looked alarmed at Ron's outburst as well. Ron however, looked disbelieving at Hermione.

"She's been _kind_ to you? She barely talks to you."

"That may be true, but she's still polite. Plus, I'm friends with her because I know _you_ she just gives us time to be together."

Ron shook his head at her. "Whatever, she's still a bitch." This comment made Fred and George snap.

"Ron, she's your fucking sister. Show some respect. She's done nothing to you." Fred retorted at him. Ron simply looked annoyed at the fact that no one seemed to agree with him. Even Harry, incredulity written on his face, turned to him.

"What's gotten into you, mate?"

Ron defiantly crossed his arms over his chest before turning childishly to the window to the side of Ginny's head, not saying a word.

The rest of the ride to King's Cross was relatively uneventful. Everyone in the car seemed to be lost in their own train of thought. Even the ever talkative Molly Weasley had taken to staring out the window. Ginny was at a wonder as to how this could have happened. Sometime, George had placed his arm around her shoulders. However she was in such a trance-like state she hardly acknowledged it. What _had_ she ever done to Ron? Why did he proclaim his utter dislike for her so intently? Leaning into George, she closed her eyes in an attempt to block out the harshness of her world.

**Author's Notes: **Well, that's the first chapter. You can expect every chapter to be approximately 2,000 – 4,000 words in length, perhaps more if I feel productive. Keep note of the end of the Suicide Letter. No, I will NOT tell you what happens. However, I will tell you that this will be a trilogy. It will also be a Draco/Ginny/Blaise shipping, so if you do not approve of that then do not read this story. There will be mentions and explicit descriptions of sex, self mutilation, suicide, all that jazz. So, once again, if it offends you please do not read my story. Or, stories, since there will be three of them. Length wise, the first section of the trilogy should have around 14-15 chapters in it. The second will be the longest with between 26-32 and the last with again 15-16. The only thing I will promise in this story is that is will, in the VERY END, have a happy ending. Now that all the technicalities are over with, I would like to thank you for reading my first chapter of Lost and Found: Lost and ask you very kindly to review!

-Elvra


	3. Chapter 2

Last Author's Note: Alright, from this point on, I will not be posting A/N's unless a reviewer brings something to my attention I feel I need to address to everyone. I have picked this story up again. I, like a lot of people I know, write best right after a break up. While that's good for you all, it kind of sucks for me. When I'm in a good relationship, writing is not on my mind. But I'm single again, so here I am. If I start to have less static updates, know it's because I've become infatuated with someone new. Good for me, bad for you. Sorry guys, it's just how it works out.

Lastly, I just want to let you guys know that I don't follow the books like a hawk, I much prefer Fanfiction to the real thing, therefore some of my facts might be off. I try and use them as references, to make this story as accurate as possible, but I can't promise there won't be something I miss. If you find a mistake, please let me know and I can fix it for future readers. Thanks!

-Elvra

After the incident on the way to King's Cross, the train ride to Hogwarts was relatively uneventful. Ginny sat in a compartment with Luna and Neville, listening with a plastered smile as they shared stories of their summers. She nodded, made approving sounds, but her mind was elsewhere. Her mind was usually elsewhere. Not the elsewhere like Luna's, in a world of Fairy Gibblers and napoxies, but a world where she had more control over her life. She lived in her 'perfect world' quite a bit. In that world she had beautiful robes, tailored to her proportions, not hand-me-downs from one of her many brothers.

In that world, she was the pride and joy of her parents and her family, not the outcast that was sometimes important.

In that world, she was loved by all, not ignored by most.

In that world, she was in love with someone great, someone who loved her back equally.

But she wasn't in that world. She was in this world, and in this world she was alone. All alone, just her, herself, Ginevra, Ginny…

Ginny…

Ginny…

"Ginny!"

Her head snapped up. Her two friends were staring at her, Neville clearly agitated at her unresponsiveness.

"Sorry, I was just thinking about what Luna said about her vacation." She explained, the lie falling easily to their appeased faces. They liked that answer. That answer meant she was listening.

"So Gin, what happened with you since we met up in August?" he asked.

"Oh, not much. Hermione and Harry came a few days ago. Really it's just been a mess of getting everything ready to go for school. Can you believe that potions text for this year?" She asked, putting emotion into the question. Neville groaned. He was being forced by his gran to take potions yet again. There had yet to be a feud greater than that of Neville and Snape. Well, maybe Harry and Snape…

"Oh I think it will be alright. The Larangeers should come out in October and help us with our studies. I prayed to them last night." Luna stated, returning to her editing of the next month's issue of the Quibbler. Since the mysterious disappearance of her father's editor, she had taken up the job to help out with the business. And she had done quite well at it, if Ginny said so herself. She was proud of her friend.

The rest of the ride was spent discussing upcoming classes, expectations, and hopes for the upcoming school year.

Her knees hurt by the time that she got to her dorm after the feast had concluded. Her trunk was at the end of her bed, her clothes in her dresser, her pictures on her bedside table. She smiled, the house elves tried to keep everything the same way as it was the year before. She rearranged the photographs so that they could all be seen when she was lying in bed, changed her clothes, and threw her clothes from the day into the communal hamper next to the door. As she slipped on her pajamas, she heard the muffled sounds coming from the Common Room downstairs. Everyone was at the party that was being held to welcome everyone back. Everyone but her. Hell, even the first years were down there.

But, at the same time, she knew she wasn't really wanted down there. After she and Dean had split at the beginning of the summer, most everyone was on his side. She was the enemy, even though their break up had been mutual. Life really hated her, she decided.

She laid her head down, tucking herself in as the warmth penetrated her cold skin.

She re-arranged herself, not feeling quite comfortable.

She settled herself again and closed her eyes. She shifted.

Still no. She turned over on her stomach.

Nope. Her side?

What was it? She sat up to re-arrange her blankets, switched out her top pillow for her bottom on- _clunk_.

She sat straight up as she heard the noise right next to her. Quickly she grabbed her wand and lit the room. No one was there. Her heart racing, she looked around until she saw it.

And intricately embroidered little leather book lying next to her bed, face down.

She picked it up, slowly. She didn't recognize it. All that was inside of the book were page after page of lines. It was a diary.

Upon the realization she dropped it as if it had burned her. What was this, some sort of cruel joke? Staring incredulously at it, in all its innocent glory, she grabbed a scarf from her dresser, wrapped it up, and shoved it under her bed and lay back down.

No, she couldn't leave it there. If it was like her last diary… if it was like Tom's diary it could watch her. She got back out of bed, took the cotton wrapped book and put it in her trunk. She stood for a moment before taking it back out. She didn't feel safe. Finally she had an epiphany.

She knew, she would put it in her empty book bag. It couldn't see her there. It sounded so childish, but it made so much sense to her as she placed the wrapped journal into the canvas sack. And tomorrow, tomorrow she would have McGonagall check it out. She could tell her if it was safe, and maybe where it came from. Tomorrow. She crawled back under the covers, shutting her eyes, and forcing herself to go to sleep. She only hoped the long subdued nightmares would not re-present themselves tonight as they had for so many years.

It was still dark when Ginny awoke again. Damn. She had hoped to get at least five or six hours of sleep tonight. She fished around her dresser to look for her watch. 3:48. She let her head fall back into her pillow in exasperation. Damn.

Suddenly she felt like crying again.

She didn't know why, there was really nothing for her to be upset about; it was just that… she had this feeling in her gut that she wanted to cry. That eternal emptiness that seemed to devour her sometimes. She wanted to cry.

But she couldn't. The emptiness inside of her was all-consuming, but she couldn't get it to go to her eyes. She just felt… numb. Like nothing mattered. Because really, in life, what does? She went to school, she got grades, she studied, but where did this relate to her in the future?

Would she really care in twenty years if she skipped her first day of classes? Actually… probably she would. Damn work ethic. Why did she have to be such a good student? She would hardly amount to anything in her life.

The emptiness came back. Part of her just felt like she was hungry, but she may have just been misinterpreting it. Hungry and empty were really the same thing, it's just that one was physical and one was emotional.

Would it ever go away? Would she ever have that giddy happiness that she did as a child? The care-free spirit she was known for?

Her eyes closed again and sleep over came her. In the morning, she didn't remember her internal debate with herself.

But the emptiness was still there.

Several hours later she woke again to the giggling of the girls in her dorm. The four other roommates she had were all sitting at the end of their beds in their silk chemises and matching robes discussing their summers. Ginny's own old t-shirt and fading pajama pants were no match for the beautiful pinks and blues of her dorm-mates nightwear.

Looking at her watch again, still on the bedside table from last night, she slipped out of bed. The girls looked up at her, one girl, Caroline, even said good morning, but their conversation was soon resumed as Ginny went straight to their communal showers. She had never really gotten along well with any of the girls, but not for lack of trying. She pitched into to a conversation here and there, but the truth was they just had nothing in common. All of those girls were beautiful, with long flowing hair curled or straightened to perfection every day, skin flawless due to the expensive potions they applied before bed, and their fitted, new robes.

Ginny had grown up with six brothers, with no time to herself nor want or means to make herself beautiful. She was decent friends with Parvati and Padma, who were generally fashion forward and each had their own distinct style. But even they were beautiful. She padded her way over to the row of sinks upon the gold painted wall, looking in the mirror. But she would never be beautiful, she thought as she looked at herself. Her hair was a frizzy mess, parts waved in indistinctive patters, parts straight as a board, and all of it sticking up in every which way. Her face was blotchy and pale, her childish freckles standing out prominently upon her flesh. Her skin was dry and oily at the same time, her hair was greasy. There were dark circles under her eyes. She had a hint of a double chin, the last months at the Weasley house taking a toll on her physical appearance. She needed a shower. Hanging her head between her shoulders as she leaned over the sink, she once again felt the haunting loneliness that seemed to be sticking with her lately.

Images of her as a child, her bouncing pig-tails, her laughter cheery and undiluted, flashed through her brain. Oh how she missed her innocence, before Tom, before her brothers' growing up, before the diary…

The diary!

Her head snapped up as she remembered. She had thought it a dream. She swiftly turned around and took a quick shower, thanking the house elves silently for their restocking of her favorite shampoo from Hogsmeade. It smelt like coconut, which she liked to think made her exotic. Not just plain, boring Ginny Weasley. Whether this was actually true or not, she wasn't sure. But she liked to think it liked to make her feel better.

Quickly grabbing a towel from the rack outside of the shower she had chosen, she wrapped herself after washing her hair and skin, padding into the bedrooms again to grab her wand. The girls still hadn't stopped talking. As she grabbed her clothes for the day, she noticed that even first thing in the morning the girls looked beautiful. If only she could look like that…

Trying to shake the thought from her mind, she went back in the bathroom, dried, dressed, and threw her hair in a ponytail so that she could look half-way presentable without much effort. Walking back to her trunk, the girls dispersed to ready themselves for the day as she grabbed her books out of her trunk and threw her bag over her shoulder. Quickly she made her way out of the still-empty common room and down to the Great Hall, hoping to catch her Head of House before breakfast.

"Of course, Ms. Weasley. If you'll accompany me to my office, I can run the preliminary tests now." Her Professor said, looking softly down at one of her favorite students. The clicking of her boots was the only sound throughout the hallway as teacher and student walked to the private quarters of McGonagall.

Meanwhile, Ginny's nerves were in a hurricane inside of her. Surely this was not another of Malfoy's tricks… surely this was not form the Dark Lord.

"May I ask how you came across this diary, Ms. Weasley?" McGonagall asked her, glancing down over her rectangle glasses.

"I, uh…" Ginny stammered, trying to remember last night. "I think I found it, last night when I went to bed. It was inside my pillow case."

"Hmm…" The Professor pursed her lips. "And you're sure you don't know who would have put it there?"

"No, Professor. That's why I came to you. It fell out of my pillow, I glanced through it, and then I covered it and put it in my bag. I … I didn't want to take any chances…" Ginny said, feeling like she was ten again. Professor McGonagall had always intimidated her, if only a little.

They came to the Transfiguration classroom and walked past all of the wooden desks, back to the door in the back of the room. Her teacher opened the door, gesturing that Ginny lead the way. A few moments later, they were both settled at her massive desk surrounded by a multitude of book cases. Ginny was well familiar with this room. After her… attack… she had often come to her professor to talk through some of her fears about Voldemort still having control over her. But, as always, her professor was very good at talking her down, allowing her to calm down before returning to her every day life.

Ginny had always gotten along better with adults, it seemed. Girls her age were just so immature. Except for Luna. While she had her quirky side, she was emotionally capable beyond her years. That's what Ginny liked about her. She pulled herself out of her thoughts as the woman in front of her pulled out her wand, doing a series of charms upon the book.

She had always admired her Professor's wand-work. Of course, McGonagall was much older than she and had much more experience with magic. Wand-work came naturally to you in age. Charm after charm, enchantment after enchantment, McGonagall did not look disturbed in the slightest, which relieved Ginny.

"There seems to be no enchantment on this book, as beautiful as it is. Would you like me to pass it off to Professor Flitwick so that he may examine it further?"

Ginny breathed a sigh of relief. It was nothing. She shook her head.

"However," she continued. Ginny's breath stopped. "I would point out that your name is inscribed in the front page." She showed Ginny where, clearly in golden ink, the name Ginevra M. Weasely was gorgeously scripted in large, delicate print. Hand-written. "Clearly this was a gift to you. Perhaps a birthday gift you had overlooked before now?"

Ginny took the book back into her hands. "Thank you, Professor. I'll look into it."

Both women stood, McGonagall walking her to the door as they said their goodbyes. Part of Ginny was quite flattered that someone had given her such a beautiful gift. As she looked it over again, she truly appreciated the craftsmanship. The leather was a deep mahogany color, shining with the well oiled treatment it had been granted. On the front was an ancient ruin, and as she walked she racked her mind for what the symbol meant. She really thought it had something to do with friendship… Perhaps she would ask Luna at breakfast. She was good at runes.

The symbol itself was quite beautiful. Several different levels of the pressed leather formed a circular shape with multiple leaves overlapping each other. Snake-like decorations continued on all sides, spelling out what looked to be an ancient Norse prayer. She would, again, have to endorse the help of Luna.

Beyond the cover were hundreds of pages of heavy parchment, faint grey lines marring the beautiful paper. This may very well be the most expensive thing she had ever held in her hands. And the front page, her name so beautifully scrawled upon the page. IT really made her name look beautiful. And partly, that made her feel beautiful.

Unfortunately, the feeling didn't last long as she went into the near-empty Great Hall. Sitting by herself, she ate her porridge slowly as she examined the book further, hoping to find some symbol of who had given her this gift. Unfortunately, they left no physical or magical traces. Who ever it was that gave her the journal, they didn't want their identity known. Hesitating for several moments, she finally reached down into her bag and withdrew a bottle of ink and quill. _Drip. Drip. _ She let the ink fall onto the page, making sure that it stayed there. Just an extra precaution.

_Dear Diary…_ she began, for the first time in four years. She wrote for only a short time before casting a drying spell on the wet ink and closing it. Admiring the gift once more, she tucked it safely into her bag, picked up her belongings, and headed off to her first class of the year.

Unbeknownst to her, there were eyes watching Ginny as she left the hall. A sigh of relief was breathed. She didn't know anything. Yet.


	4. Chapter 3

Lost and Found: Chapter 3

The next few weeks passed rather slowly. Ginny's day was a strict routine. After a few days of watching her roommates get dressed, she decided to go on a diet. She was up before dawn, traveling down to the lake to run around the dirt path surrounding the water. She'd never really run a day in her life. The first week or so she could barely run for a minute before she started walking again. But she would always end running. Every day she pushed herself a little harder, ran a little longer. Her muscles protested, but now she could run for a good ten minutes before taking a break and starting over again. Her clothes that had been tight on her at the beginning of the month were now fitting much better. The cooler air helped clear her mind to the point that she was focusing better in her classes. She rarely found any students outside at that hour, though there were three or four other runners that she passed almost daily. She even felt special when a fourth year Ravenclaw walked up to her at lunch one day, asking where she was that morning. The answer was quite simple, she'd just gone out earlier than normal.

Harry had commented on her physique, hinting that she should try out for Quidditch again this year. "If you keep conditioning like that, I have no doubt you'll make the team, not just reserve either." She had smiled and thanked him, but her joy hadn't lasted long. Ron snorted at her, turning to Harry. "Clearly you haven't seen her on a broom. Did you _want_ to lose every game this year?"

The next day she trained harder.

It took her a long time to get used to writing in her beautiful diary. She had asked Hermione if she knew of anyone who would have given it to her, but to no avail. Hermione had gushed about a secret admirer, but Ginny knew better. She had deduced that it was probably Fred and George. She had even sent them a letter asking when their handwriting had improved so much. They sent back a response on cursed paper that forced her to write in mirror image for a few hours. It was one of their better pranks on her and she asked Professor Flitwick to charm her notes from the day right-side. The little man chuckled at her.

Her life was so… normal. Her classes were average. She did her homework, she studied. She ate the same thing for breakfast every day. The same thing for lunch. She started skipping desert, saying she didn't really have a sweet tooth anymore. The September weather was doing her well. People she knew were commenting about her seemingly well-being.

They didn't know any better.

Each morning she woke up from nightmares and was too scared to go back to sleep. She had charmed her bed long ago so that the sounds she made when she was asleep wouldn't wake her roommates. Vivid dreams of being trapped. Buried alive in a coffin at the bottom of the ocean. Tied down to a stone slap, slanted so her head faced down, as it rained. She woke up just before she would have drowned from the heavy rainfall. Lost in a burning building, feeling her skin falling off her skin as the flames licked at her. Magically bound to the floor before Voldemort, listening to his maniac laughter as Nagini bit her repeatedly. The glamour's she used on her face were quite impressive, they hid the dark circles under her eyes. The pain she felt from her exercise superseded all remains of her nightmares.

She had tried talking to Hermione about it once, but her only suggestion was to visit the nurse for a sleeping potion. With the glamours, there was no way that Hermione could see the stress that was just beneath the surface. Her consolation became her writing. Her fears, her dreams, her hopes. Sometimes trivial, sometimes quite serious, the act of writing words on paper seemed to life a weight off her shoulders. If only temporary.

Her life seemed to teeter on the edge. For a while she was okay. Okay until mid-September, after the first Transfiguration test for the seventh year students. Ginny had been studying with Hermione for quite some time by this point. They shared the same subjects, if a year apart, and in subjects like Arithmacy and Transfiguration they were mutually beneficial to each other. Ginny had become so advance in Transfiguration that McGonagall approached her one day after class.

"Ms. Weasley, I have a proposition for you." She said, sitting at her desk while Ginny stood awkwardly in front of her.

"Yes?"

"It has come to my attention that your brother seems to be falling behind somewhat in my class. Ms. Granger is quite busy with her course load and Mr. Potter's skills do not lie with Transfiguration. I have suggested other students who might be available to tutor Mr. Weasley, but he has refused. I had hoped that perhaps you could speak with him, offer him your assistance. I believe he may respond more favorably to a family member than a teacher."

Ginny stood still for a moment, shocked. "But we're not covering the same material, Professor. If it was someone in my class I would be happy to, but what if the material is too advanced?"

"I have full faith in you, Ginevra."

She nodded mutely, her red hair tickling her chin as she did. Maybe this was her chance to prove to Ron that she was worth something after all…

Later that night in the Gryffindor common room, she approached the trio hesitantly. Hermione was reading in a cushy armchair, the boys were playing chess on a floating board between the two. Ron was winning, though only by a hair.

"Ron?"

He barely turned to look at her, his full concentration on the game. He made his move, watching with satisfaction as Harry's rook was destroyed.

"Ron?" She tried again, thinking h

He hadn't heard her. Hermione looked up from her book and Harry smiled at her.

"What? I'm busy." He responded sharply. Harry made his move quickly.

"McGonagall wanted me to talk to you…" She started. He was obviously ignoring her. He made his move with his queen on the board.

"What did the bint want?" He snapped. Hermione threw him a disapproving glare at his word choice and Harry concentrated on the board. His eyebrows were knit together for a minute until he grinned, calling out his move. Ron watched in horror as Harry's black night moved forward and beheaded the white queen. Ginny giggled as the knight gave a little bow to Ginny and Hermione before becoming immobile once more. "Damn you, Ginny!" Ron shouted at her. She took a step back, shock written on her face. "You made me lose my bloody concentration. This game was _mine_. What the fuck is so important that you had to bother me _now? _ I swear it had better be important, little chit."

She was almost quivering. Ron was hotheaded but he'd never been quite so… vicious. "She… Um…"

"What?" He shouted again. She briefly hear Hermione chastising him.

"She sent me about your Transfiguration work."

His face went pale for a minute before turning red. He grabbed her upper arm harshly and forcibly dragged her across the room and out the portrait. There was no one out in the hallway. He shoved her into the wall and she almost lost her balance. She cowered under her brother's angry glare.

"What the hell is your problem?" He asked her again.

"N-nothing." She answered, just wanting to get up to her room.

"Then what did McGonagall want?"

"She said you were falling b-behind. She w-wanted me to h-help you…" She said in a small voice. She was trying to shrink herself into the wall, ignoring the slight pain on her shoulder blades from their harsh treatment against the stone.

"So she sent _you_? Seriously? You must think I'm pretty fucking pathetic. Best friends with Harry Potter and Hermione Granger, yet according to you, I need _help,_" he spat the last word. He slammed his hand into the wall beside her. "Let me tell you who's pathetic. Fat, young, ugly Ginny Weasley. Merlin, even your name is sad. Ginny – it sounds like a name for a weed. Or a cockroach. Isn't that what Dad used to call you? Gin-bug?"

Tears stung behind her eyes. "I-I'm sorry. I'll tell her-"

"You'll tell her what? I don't need help, especially not from a parasite like you." He shoved past her to go back into the common room and she just stood still for a moment in the empty hallway. She briefly heard the Fat Lady ask if she was alright, but she just nodded and walked back through, straight to the stairs. She glanced back to see Ron giving her a disgusted look. She nearly ran to her dorm room. It was thankfully empty. Ginny dropped her bag on her bed and went to the bathroom, splashing cold water on her face from the sinks and staring at herself in the mirror. Ron was probably just upset about the class. But the truth behind his words stung. Her name was ugly. Her face was ugly. She lifted her shirt and stared at her stomach, wishing it was flat and toned. She grabbed at the skin and pulled it away from her body, ignoring the pain. She was flat chested. Her hair was limp. Her nose was crooked. Her eyes were the most boring shade of green, not a vibrant green like Harry's but a dull, muted color like a dirty lake. Like algae. Her teeth were slightly yellowed.

She picked her toothbrush off of her shelf on the wall and started brushing her teeth vigorously. Her flabby arms shook with the force she used to run her toothbrush over her teeth. She tasted metallic in her mouth. When she rinsed her mouth, the water was slightly pink. She smiled at the mirror and then shook her head when she couldn't see a difference. She brushed her teeth again, running the bristles over her teeth harder. After she rinsed her mouth and washed the red water from the basin, she went to her bed and pulled out her diary. She flipped through her pages, briefly glancing at her previous entries until she came to the next blank page. She started to write, kept writing until her wrist hurt and there were unshed tears threatening to fall from her eyes.

She whispered the drying spell, snapped the book shut, and fell into bed for a fitful sleep. She didn't even acknowledge her roommates when they came in.

_Dear Diary, _

_Things slip through my fingers so easily, so often. I try so hard. I want something to keep these nightmares away. I want to go to sleep without being scared at the sights I will see. I want to remember what it feels like to be rested. Ron… I don't understand where I went wrong. Am I a bad sister? A bad person? A bad student? Have I done something to offend him in some way? Am I really that disappointing to him? I feel like I'm not so much a disappointment as a… burden. I want to think that it's him, his problem. But he acts so differently to everyone else, almost lovingly. I am the only one who he treats this way and… honestly… I feel like I am the problem. Maybe I am this rodent that he says I am. __I grew up in a very stress filled family. There was always something going on with someone. Bill was the partier who snuck alcohol into his room at night, Charlie worked with dangerous creatures from a young age, Percy was always putting Mum and Dad down, Fred and George were lighting everyone's hair on fire at every opportunity, and Ron was the lazy one. Mum used to have to threaten him like crazy to do anything. I was "the good girl" to everyone. Smart, cute, and obedient. But that changed. Somewhere, I became the bad one. The one who can't do anything right. The one who sits alone for days on end and no one seems to notice. I know I have Neville and Luna there but it's not the same. I was so excited to go to Hogwarts with Ron, my big brother, my best friend. What did I do? I've been fooling myself for so long into thinking I could actually become something. I'll always be fat, stupid, ugly Ginny Weasley. I'm going to run twice as long tomorrow. Hermione showed me this stop-see thing, where I can time myself. _

_If I was skinny… would Ron like me better? Would Harry? _

_Who am I kidding? Even if I could be skinny, I'll never be pretty. I've always wanted to be pretty. I always read the fairy tales of the beautiful princesses and hoped I would be one. There's nothing I can do to make myself beautiful. I would have to Polyjuice myself. _

_The dreams have been getting worse. Last night I dreamt of Greybeck. I know he's out there somewhere, which makes this dream worse than the others before it. I'm standing in a clearing in the woods and I can hear the howls of the wolf around me. I can't move. I can barely breathe, I feel like there is a huge weight on my chest that forbids anything. I see Hermione, Harry, and Ron standing a few feet away. Fenir comes closer to me. I can't scream. I try so hard, but nothing comes out of my mouth. He's transformed, his claws tear through my back, and he licks the gashes to make them sting more. He bites me. I try so hard to scream. _

_Ron looks over. Then he looks back to Harry and Hermione and they walk away. I feel the blood flowing out of me, I feel like I'm dying and I keep trying to scream. I tried so hard. _

_I woke up just before I would have died and I still felt like I couldn't breathe. It felt like someone had their hands wrapped around my neck. Even when I was awake, I couldn't scream. _

_I was so scared. _

_-Ginevra_

_09/16/1996_


End file.
